


Good Things

by Eienvine



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Thor (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-27
Updated: 2018-09-27
Packaged: 2019-07-18 02:58:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,145
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16109372
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Eienvine/pseuds/Eienvine
Summary: It’s just Loki’s luck: ofcoursethe gorgeous girl in his Stats 220 class has a massive crush on his brother Thor. But since he clearly isn’t going to get to date her himself, he decides to do the kind thing and help Sif get Thor’s attention. That’ll work out perfectly for everyone. Except him. As usual.





	Good Things

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for CallistoNicol for beta reading, for letting me bounce ideas off you, and for coming up with a great list of fantasy and sci fi books.

. . . . . .

If there’s one thing Loki’s learned in life, it’s that if something appears to be going well for him, he’s probably mistaken. It happened when Amora Incantare, the prettiest girl in the third grade, asked him to be her boyfriend, which lasted for three blissful weeks until he learned that she only asked because his family was rich. It happened when he suddenly found himself engulfed by the cool clique in the eighth grade and spent four days experiencing what it was like to be popular, only to learn that they were only being nice to him because his twin brother Thor had forced them to be. And it happened when he learned, in the eleventh grade, that his charmed life as one of the pampered sons of Odin Burrson, mayor of Gladsheim, was all based on a lie: his parents had never bothered to tell him that he was adopted and his birth parents were drug addicts and petty criminals and that the family had even lied about when his birthday was to keep up the ruse that he and Thor were twins.

It took time, but the family weathered that storm (and Loki’s ensuing anger and attempt at running away from home) and came out stronger for it. But it still left an indelible mark on his psyche, a permanent patch of self-doubt that makes it hard for him to trust good things that happen.

So he’s barely even surprised when his date with Sif Tyrsdottir is a bust. After all, the most gorgeous girl in his Stats 220 class—the most gorgeous girl at the whole university, if you ask him—spontaneously showing interest in him, of all people? The school’s beloved track and field goddess actually approaching him and asking him on a date? Of course there’s no way that kind of good luck and happiness can last.

It’s not that Sif is intentionally a bad date, of course; she is all charm and humor and fire and beauty, and Loki doesn’t know when he’s enjoyed a meal more. But he can’t help but notice that she mentions “this guy in my program” about every other sentence. The whole night.

So finally, as they’re enjoying their milkshakes, and she mentions that “that guy in my program can eat buckets of sugar and never put on weight,” he gently brings it to her attention.

“I feel like you’re maybe more hung up on this guy than you realize,” he concludes.

Sif stares at him, and then she buries her face in her hands. “I’m so sorry, Loki. I didn’t mean to . . .”

Listening to her talk about this guy she likes more than she likes him is the last thing that Loki wants to do, but seeing her in such distress forces kindness out of him whether he likes it or not. “Do you want to talk about it?”

So she tells him about this guy in her athletic training program, and how cool and charming and funny and handsome he is, and how she’s spent the last year doing everything in her power to get him to ask her out. “Nothing,” she says, running a hand through her short, dark hair. “I don’t think he even notices that I’m hitting on him.” And she gives Loki a shamefaced glance. “So I finally decided I’d better just try to move on. And I do think you’re great, honestly. I just . . . I’m sorry.”

So is Loki, but there’s not point in trying to salvage a relationship that was clearly doomed from the start. “Well, I got a free meal out of it, anyway,” he says with forced cheer. “And I think you should tell this guy how you feel.”

She sighs. “I’d just ask him out—I don’t mind doing the asking, clearly—if he were ever single for longer than 45 minutes at a time. But I think he’s taking this football hero thing a little too seriously; he literally has a new cheerleader on his arm every time I see him.”

A whisper of dread and suspicion coils in Loki’s stomach. “I never did ask: what’s this guy’s name?”

Sif looks embarrassed but admits, “It’s Thor Odinson.”

Of course it’s Thor. _Of course_ the most amazing girl at Asgard U, the girl Loki has admired from afar for months, is already hung up on Loki’s twin brother. Why wouldn’t she be? Thor is perfect, and Loki never gets what he wants.

She notices his expression. “You know him?”

Loki gives her a tight smile. “I guess I never told you my last name,” he says, and sticks out a hand for her to shake. “Loki Odinson. Nice to meet you.”

Sif shakes his hand slowly, her eyes wide. “So you’re Thor’s . . .”

“Twin.” Not technically, but he spent so long believing it—and it hurts Thor’s feelings so much when Loki tries to claim otherwise—that these days he just goes along with it.

“Wow. This is . . . awkward.”

Awkward is an understatement. And there’s a large part of Loki that wants nothing more than to leave this diner and never speak to or about Sif again. But a small but insistent part feels bad that she feels bad, and can hear his mother’s voice admonishing him to be kind, and thinks that at the very least, Sif would be a vast improvement over Thor’s usual girlfriends.

So he forces his voice to stay chipper. “A little,” he agrees. “But also, maybe this is your lucky day. If you want to get close to Thor, you’ve basically got an in right here, right?”

“You’d help me out with this?”

He forces himself to smile. “What are friends for? Or, you know, sort of acquaintances?”

And now Sif is grinning. “You’re a really good guy, Loki.”

His smile is beginning to feel pasted on. “Apparently.”

. . . . . .

The first step of Operation Get Thor and Sif Together is to feel out Thor. So at their next lunch—their parents Venmo them money each week specifically for the purpose of getting lunch together, in the hopes of maintaining their brotherly relationship—Loki brings Sif up.

“This stats class is tough,” he says in response to Thor’s question about his schoolwork. “You’re lucky you’re not taking it until the fall; I hear the professor who teaches it then is easier.” Stats is the only class where Thor’s athletic training program requirements and Loki’s business school requirements overlap, and they’d hoped to take it together this semester, but the scheduling didn’t work out. “I’ve got this huge partner project due at the end of the semester: 50% of my final grade. Should be fun though—my partner’s really cool. I think she said she knows you from your program; you know a Sif Tyrsdottir?”

“Sif?” Thor repeats. “From the track team? That’s awesome! She is so cool.”

Loki perks up. “Really?” he asks. “You think she’s cool?”

“Well, yeah, she just set a new state record for javelin.”

“Right, but . . . that’s the only thing you think is cool about her?”

“No, she’s really fun to hang with, too. Volstagg knows her from high school so she’s been hanging out with us sometimes lately. She’s fun. Doesn’t let Fandral get away with much, which is probably good.”

Loki knows Fandral, and he agrees that anyone who reins him in is doing God’s work.

And now Thor is leaning in, with a grin on his face. “So, Sif,” he says.

“Yes?”

Thor should never attempt to look knowing; it doesn’t suit his face. “You gonna ask her out?”

Loki’s always been far better at lying than his brother is at recognizing he’s being lied to. “Not really feeling it,” he says, while his traitorous heart loudly insists that has been feeling nothing but “it” since the first day of winter semester. “Not my type.”

“Seriously?” Thor demands. “She’s everybody’s type! Hot and athletic but also smart enough to keep the nerds interested.”

Bingo. “Then why don’t you ask her out?”

Thor looks surprised at that. “Never really thought about it, actually.”

Helping Sif is the right thing to do, Loki tells himself. This is the right thing. “Maybe you should.”

. . . . . .

“Then he just sort of shrugged and changed the subject,” Loki finishes. “But at least you know he thinks you’re hot.”

They’re sitting in the living room of Loki’s off-campus apartment. Thor would have liked to live with his brother, but the school provides special housing for the football team—yet another way the American academic system prioritizes athletics over actual academics, Loki often grumbles—so Loki shares this apartment with a quiet biochem major named Bruce who’s almost never home. Sif shares a tiny cinder block apartment with a physics major named Jane and an incredibly loud poli sci major named Darcy, so she and Loki agreed it'd be best to work on their project at his place.

(The partner project for their statistics class was not just a ruse so Loki can talk about Sif to Thor; it was announced the Monday after Loki and Sif’s date, and they both needed a partner, and Loki had relished the looks of shock and jealousy on some of his classmates’ faces when the gorgeous track star asked him to be her partner.)

“So what now?” Sif asks. She is sprawled comfortably across two kitchen chairs, her bag and her books scattered the table, and he loves the way she can walk into a new space and just inhabit it, like she’s always been there. It’s fascinating, to a guy who’s often felt like he doesn’t quite belong anywhere.

“Well, I put the idea in his head,” Loki says. “So now just make sure you’re around him a lot, I guess? I know he’s already getting tired of his current girlfriend, so as soon as they break up you need to be ready to strike.” Sif has already made it quite clear to him that she’s not going to steal another girl’s guy, so she refuses to make a move until Thor is single. He admires that about her, and also is secretly pleased because it means he has that much longer before he has to watch them date. “And I’ll keep talking you up to him.”

“You’re the best,” Sif says, and stands to stretch. “I need a break. All these numbers are starting to blur together.”

Soon Sif is wandering the living room, examining the shelves full of books and DVDs. “These all yours?” she asks.

“The ones in that shelf are mine,” he confirms. “The other shelf is Bruce’s stuff.”

“Half a shelf worth of Dickens,” she notes. “How very well-educated of you.”

Loki shifts uncomfortably. “I like his social commentary.”

“Lots of Shakespeare, bit of Virginia Woolfe . . . Faulkner, really?” She turns to him with a grin. “So this is the stuff you put out to impress people. Where’s the stuff you actually read?”

“I read Faulkner,” he objects, and she lifts an eyebrow. “Occasionally,” he amends, then relents and says, “Bottom two shelves.”

“Ah, this is more like it,” says Sif, squatting down. “Bit of Asimov, _I Am Legend_ , Jordan and Sanderson, all the greats; Philip K. Dick—why doesn’t it surprise me that you read him? Oh! Harlan Ellison. He wrote my favorite episode of Star Trek.”

Loki blinks. “You watch Star Trek?”

“Not super often,” she shrugs, her gaze still fixed on the bookshelf. “But my dad loves the show. I used to watch it with him all the time.”

Oh, crap. Loki is in love.

“Do you watch it?”

Loki is immobilized and awkward for a moment, and Sif looks over at him. “What’s that face for?”

He hesitates, and then thinks: she’s already not interested. What can he lose? “I do like it,” he says. “Original series and Next Gen, especially. I’m just . . . not used to admitting that out loud. Thor’s friends could—well, they usually had a few things to say about my interests.”

Sif is looking at him steadily now. “But only his friends? Not Thor?”

He kind of wishes he could report that Thor had been a bully, but fairness and love for his brother force him to admit, “No, Thor didn’t really understand it, but he was never mean about it.”

Sif straightens back up to a standing position. “Well, luckily for you,” she says with a grin, “I hear nerdy is in these days.”

“But too late for my awkward teenaged self.”

She laughs, then returns to her perusal of the bookshelves. “So what did you think of the new movies?”

“I mean, they’re not really Trek, are they? But taken on their own merits, they’re fun space adventure movies. And that’s not a bad thing.”

“That’s what I think,” she agrees. “Sometimes all you want is escapism, right? Lots of fight scenes and explosions.” She grins. “And a bit of eye candy.”

“I take it you’re a Chris Pine fan?” He mostly manages to keep the resignation out of his tone. He’s always had a very complicated relationship with Kirk, because he’s exactly what Thor would be in that universe, isn’t he? Handsome and charming and popular, with an obnoxious knack for having things just magically work out in his favor. Loki has always thought of himself as a Spock: the one who isn’t necessarily understood or appreciated by his shipmates, the logical one who overthinks everything and sometimes has to use that overthinking to pull Kirk out of trouble.

Sif answers casually, “I like him, for sure, but I always more of a Zachary Quinto fan.”

Crap. Did we mention that Loki is in love? Because Loki is in love.

. . . . . .

“I don’t know, man,” Thor sighs. “I’m kind of thinking I’ve had it with Lorelei.”

Loki’d had it with Lorelei about thirty seconds after meeting her, so he approves of this development wholeheartedly. “Then dump her.”

Thor puts his hands over his face. “But she’s so hot,” he groans. “Man, I don’t know what to do.”

“You could start with finishing your spaghetti,” Loki observes. “Since you insisted on buying two plates of it.”

Thor gives him an amused look. “You doubt my ability to eat two plates of spaghetti?”

“Oh, I don’t doubt it. I know how you eat. I’m just saying, don’t get so caught up in your love life that you let your food get cold.”

Thor seems to find this good advice, because he sets to eating in his usual, vacuum-like style. “You know,” Loki sighs, “if I ate like you, I’d weigh four hundred pounds.”

“If you’d come work out with me more, you could eat like me and not put on weight.”

Loki snorts and eats his own plate of tortellini with much more decorum. “So what are you going to do about Lorelei?”

Thor groans and Loki adds, “If you’re done with her, be done with her. There are other fish in the sea. You’re Thor Odinson. You tooks us to the national championship last year. You set a new record for single game yards as a freshman. I can only assume the list of Asgard ladies who’d be interested in dating you would fill several books.” He hesitates. “What about Sif Tyrsdottir? She’s single.”

But Thor only shrugs. “I don’t know, I’ve kind of been thinking I should take some time to focus more on my schoolwork, you know?”

Wait, what? Is the sky falling? Does Loki have some sudden severe medical condition that’s making him hallucinate? “You might want to focus more on your schoolwork than on girls?” he repeats, certain that he must have misheard.

Thor shrugs uncomfortably. “Well, yeah. What if I don’t go pro? Or I do, but an injury forces me out? I should have a backup plan.”

All of these are things that Loki stopped bothering to tell Thor ages ago, because he never listened. What changed? “You want to have a backup plan,” he repeats cautiously, certain he’s misunderstood.

“Isn’t that what you were always telling me to do?” He takes the last bite of his second plate—he really does eat like a vacuum cleaner sucks up crap—and puts his fork down. “I gotta run,” he says. “I’ve got math tutoring.”

“Math tutoring?” Loki repeats. “Since when are you getting tutored in math? The school put you in the absolute most remedial math class it could—one easy enough that even _you_ have been able to keep up with it. You’ve told me that on more than one occasion.”

Thor shrugs. “The athletics office set it up without telling me. And it’s actually been pretty cool. See you later!”

And he takes off out of the food court, leaving his very baffled brother behind with a giant mess of marinara-covered dishes.

. . . . . .

“All I’m saying is, Britain could have played a more active role in preventing the escalation of the July Crisis.”

“I don’t disagree. But that doesn’t change the fact that there’s really compelling evidence that Germany saw the July Crisis and thought ‘Ooh, here’s our chance.’”

“Sure. But they’re certainly not the only major European power to have done so.”

Sif examines him a long moment. “Fine, fair point,” she says, with the air of someone making a grand gesture.

“Someday you will learn I’m always right,” Loki says with dignity, and Sif throws a Cheeto at his head.

He winces as he rubs the orange powder off his forehead. “I can’t believe you eat those. Nothing that dyes your fingers that color can be healthy.”

“I hear what you’re saying, but consider this alternative viewpoint: they are delicious. And I like the way the puffy ones dissolve in your mouth.”

“You’re not helping your cause,” he grimaces.

They are, as has become their Tuesday-Thursday post-Stats 220 habit, hanging out in Loki’s living room. Prepping for their stats project has broadened out into general study sessions, although lately they’re spending more time chatting than studying. Loki suspects his grades might suffer this semester, but he can’t bring himself to care.

He wouldn’t have thought that he and Sif would have much in common, but they’ve never run out of things to talk about. Their most recent discovery: they’re both history buffs, although her interest runs more toward military history and his toward political. Their other recent discovery: she has an obsessive love of disgusting junk food and he an almost pathological aversion to it, and she loves grossing him out by doing things like slowly licking powdered sugar from her fingers (which, he’d never admit, he finds to be equal amounts disgusting and hot).

“We’ve gotten off-track,” Loki points out. “We need to get this outline finished.”

“Fine,” she groans, and forces herself back up into a seated position. “But throwing Cheetos at your head is more fun.”

Loki hides a smile.

. . . . . .

“I thought you were dumping her,” Loki groans as Lorelei disappears from view.

“I’m going to!” Thor insists. “It’s just . . . I don’t know, every time I’m about to, something happens and I just can’t do it.”

“Does this ‘something’ involve her face on yours?” Loki asks drily, and Thor looks a little shamefaced.

“Maybe a little.” Then he gives Loki a sideways look. “Why’s it so important to you that I dump her?”

It’s important because if Thor will just start dating Sif, maybe Loki will be able to get her off his mind. But obviously he can’t say that, so he says instead, “Because you’ve told me you want to. I don’t want you to be unhappy.” He hesitates. “Also she’s sort of awful to be around. I’d love it if she went away.”

Thor snorts. “Fair enough.” There’s a pause, and then he sighs. “I have been wondering lately if I’m dating the wrong girls. Like, none of my recent relationships have been all that great, and maybe it’s because I keep dating the same kinds of girls so we keep having the same kinds of problems. Maybe I need to go for someone totally outside my usual type.”

“It’s not a bad idea,” Loki agrees. “Partly because I think you’ve pretty much burned through the entire cheerleading squad, right?”

“Not the backup squad!” Thor says cheerfully, and Loki rolls his eyes.

“I’d say ‘How are we even related?’ but I suppose biologically we’re not.”

Thor punches him in the shoulder. Loki pretends it didn’t hurt.

. . . . . .

“Obviously I was Cheetara, because she was the girl, _and_ she could run fast. And my brother Heimdall would be Lion-O.”

Loki snorts. “Thor was always Lion-O at our house. Every time. I was stuck being Tygra.”

“You didn’t want to be Tygra?” Sif grins.

“Tygra’s the worst! He doesn’t get to be the leader, or carry the Sword of Omens. And he wears a leotard.”

“They’re the ThunderCats. They all wear leotards.” She trails off and grins. “I can’t believe you guys grew up on that show too. None of my friends have ever heard of it.”

“Oh, we had all four seasons on video,” Loki smiles. And it occurs to him, not for the first time, that he smiles more when he’s around her. Which sucks. Because she does not feel the same way about him. “Of the old one, I mean; never watched the new show.”

“Me neither,” says Sif. “Why mess with perfection?” She props her feet up on the coffee table as she examines Loki. After a moment she asks, “Did it bug you that Thor was always Lion-O?”

He shrugs. “A little.”

“And he was never willing to trade?”

Another shrug. “I never bothered asking. And it never occurred to him to offer. It’s just always been understood that Thor gets what he wants, and I get what’s left over.”

Sif’s brow furrows. “That’s kind of sad.”

He gives her a rueful smile. “When your brother is the most popular kid in school, and the most famous high school football player in the state, and then the most famous college football player in the country, you get used to not getting to be Lion-O.”

This does nothing for the concerned look on her face, and Loki suddenly feels he’s been very disloyal to Thor. “Thor’s great,” he says quickly. “And he definitely always tries to be considerate . . . when it occurs to him he should.”

“You really love him,” Sif observes softly.

“He’s a good guy,” Loki shrugs. “He’s easy to love.”

“I guess so,” says Sif, her expression thoughtful. And then a smile touches her lips. “But anyway, you should be proud of being Tygra. He’s the smart one. And anyway, did you know that in the comics, he and Cheetara get married? So he’s at least better than Lion-O in that way.”

Loki blinks a few times. And then he smiles weakly.

. . . . . .

Okay, he’s got to do something about this. Sif continues to be amazing and perfect and good and smart and gorgeous, and every time she opens her mouth he falls a little more in love with her, and if things continue as they are, then if she ever gets around to dating his brother, it might genuinely kill him.

He needs to distract himself from her, he decides, and remembers how they became friends in the first place: she was trying to move on from Thor. That should work for him, right?

So Loki starts looking around for someone to ask on a date, and makes his decision soon enough. Sigyn Aegirsdottir is in his advanced writing class, and she is the opposite of Sif in every way: long blonde hair, barely 5’3”, very soft-spoken. But she’s brilliant, and she’s kind, and she says hello to Loki every time she sees him, and he enjoys her comments in class, and he knows she’s single. That’s not too bad a basis for asking someone out, right?

But if he’s going to do this, he wants it to go well. He’s not a total disaster in the romance area, but he’s not a smashing success either, and it’s definitely been a while since he asked a girl out and he could use a bit of advice and encouragement. He thinks of Thor first, but his brother doesn’t know what it’s like to feel uncertain about approaching a girl; they’re all thrilled to be noticed by him.

(Not to mention, Thor’s been a little distracted by something lately, though he vehemently denies this is the case, and Loki doesn’t know that he’d get a useful answer out of this brother.)

And Bruce is barely home, and honestly Loki doesn’t have that many friends.

So he decides to talk to Sif. After all, isn’t their whole relationship based on him helping her with the whole Thor thing? Not that Thor is listening at all, but still, the point is, it’s reasonable to ask her to return the favor and help him with his dating life.

So he brings it up one Tuesday afternoon. They are at Sif’s apartment for once; Bruce’s parents are in town, so Loki wanted to get out of their hair, and Sif’s roommates are gone for a few hours. Apparently Jane is in charge of running an informational meeting about the school tutoring program and dragged Darcy along for support.

Sif and Loki are working on their stats homework, or rather Loki is trying to work and Sif has folded a little triangle out of paper and decorated it like a football, and is now flicking it at Loki’s head.

“And the extra point is good!” she cheers as it whizzes past his ear.

He fixes her with a look. “Don’t come crying to me when you fail stats.”

“I won’t fail stats,” she says cheerfully. “I might not get an A+, but I won’t fail.” She gets up to retrieve the football. “So what are you doing this weekend?”

And here’s the perfect opening for him to ask her advice about Sigyn. So he sets down his pencil. “Actually,” he says, “I wanted to talk to you about that.”

Sif returns to her chair. “Oh?”

“Yeah. I’m thinking I want to go on a date.”

There’s a moment of silence while Sif just looks at him, her expression blank. “Oh?”

“Yeah,” he confirms. “So I wanted to ask you something.”

Her expression isn’t blank anymore, but he has no idea what it’s now showing—she looks surprised, and maybe a little pleased, and a bunch of other stuff he can’t quite read. “Okay,” she says slowly.

He doesn’t know how to respond to her response, so he just presses forward. “You’re a girl, right?”

“Last time I checked,” she says evenly.

“So I wanted your advice. What do girls like to do for first dates? Like, especially if maybe she doesn’t know the guy super well?”

Sif blinks. And then she blinks again. “You have a particular girl in mind?” Her expression has gone back to blankness.

“Yeah, you know Sigyn Aegirsdottir? She read that essay that won that big award at the homecoming rally?”

Sif hesitates, and then she nods. “Sigyn,” she repeats. “Yeah, I remember her.” Another hesitation, another look he can’t read. “So, that’s your type? Kinda quiet and sweet?”

Loki shrugs. “I don’t know if that’s my type, but yeah, she seems cool.”

A pause. Then, “Yeah, I mean, why not? You guys are both smart, you’d have a lot to talk about.”

Sif’s being kind of weird. Does she not like Sigyn? “So . . .”

“Right,” says Sif quickly. “Short. That’s the important thing. For a first date, if you don’t know the guy super well, it totally sucks when you find out he’s planned like six hours of activities for you guys. Because if you end up not liking him, you’re stuck. Plan a short date, like a meal, and if it goes well, you can suggest going for dessert or a walk or something, and if it goes badly she can go home.”

“That’s good advice,” Loki says, but he can’t shake the feeling that he’s missed something important in this conversation.

Sif pulls her stats textbook toward her and looks studiously at the homework assignment, so Loki does the same. But a few moments later, she looks up. “I’m glad that you’ve found someone you like,” she says quietly.

Yeah okay this whole conversation has been weird.

. . . . . .

But Loki does not ask Sigyn out. Not yet, anyway. To ask her out would be to finally completely close the door on Sif, and he’s not ready to do that yet. He knows it’s hopeless. But he just can’t do it.

But he really should, because now that he’s brought it up, Sif keeps bugging him about it. “Have you talked to Sigyn yet?” “Did you ask her out yet?” If he needed any proof that Sif is not interested in him, here it is: she will not drop this Sigyn thing. He’s glad that he can honestly answer “She’s been out of town at some big national writing thing” rather than admit the real reason he hasn’t asked her out yet. But even when Sigyn returns . . . he just can’t do it.

In the meantime, Sif keeps not getting around to asking Thor out. He finally dumped Lorelei and has miraculously not hooked up with anyone else yet; maybe he was serious about changing his dating habits. Point is, he is totally free and unattached, and Sif won’t do a thing about it. So Loki bugs her about it constantly. “Have you talked to Thor yet?” “Did you ask him out yet?”

He hates encouraging her to date his brother, but he hates this uncertainty even more. If she would just go for Thor, maybe his stupid brain could stop obsessing over her; maybe his stupid heart could stop pounding every time she walks into the room. But she does nothing, and his agony stretches out day after day after day.

“Why won’t you just talk to him?” he snaps after they leave the last day of their stats class, when they’ve given their big partner presentation and there’s no more studying to do and therefore no reason for them to ever see each other again and the thought is choking him. “Isn’t that the whole reason we’ve been hanging out? For you to date my brother?”

Sif recoils. “Really? Is that the reason? Silly me, I thought we were friends. I won’t make that mistake again.” And she storms off, leaving Loki feeling like he’s been punched in the gut.

. . . . . .

Loki has no interest in attending the end-of-semester dance at the student union; he hates dances and he hates school activities and he wants to stay home and sulk. But Thor’s friend Fandral is on the planning committee and his friend Hogun is DJing, so their whole group is going, and Thor appears at Loki’s door to force him to come along.

“It’s good for you to get out of this apartment,” he insists. “I know you don’t want to tell me why you’ve been so upset these last few days, but at least let me try to cheer you up.” Still Loki balks, so Thor pulls out the big guns: “If you don’t come, I’m going to call Mother and tell her you’re really upset about something.”

Loki knows perfectly well what will happen in that case—their mother is both uncannily persuasive and doggedly persistent, and he will definitely end up spilling the beans eventually. And he does not want this getting back to Thor. “Fine,” he grumbles. “Let me go change.”

So the brothers go to the student union building, which has been all dolled up for the occasion, as much as dollar store streamers can be considered “dolled up.” The lights are low in the main lounge, and at least Hogun has great taste in music. That’s a small blessing. Thor’s clearly looking for someone as they cross the dance floor, but apparently whoever it is isn’t here, because his shoulders eventually slump in disappointment.

Thor’s friends are hanging near the refreshments table, and Loki reluctantly joins their circle; Fandral and Volstagg have always been nice enough to him, but he doesn’t have much to say to them. So he stands there awkwardly for at least fifteen minutes, listening to them all talk and laugh together, until Sif walks into the room with her roommate Darcy and suddenly Loki knows that this is the real reason he agreed to come tonight.

He hasn’t talked to Sif since their argument three days ago; he wants to, desperately, but he can’t help feeling that if he really wants to distance himself from the inevitable heartbreak, letting her stay mad at him is a great way to create that distance. But he’s hated every second of it—hates knowing she’s upset with him—and now that they’re in the same space, he can’t avoid her anymore. He’s halfway across the room before he’s even realized what he’s doing.

“Hi,” he says quietly, coming to a stop in front of Sif and Darcy.

“Hi,” says Sif quietly, shifting uncomfortably.

“This is awkward,” Darcy announces. “I want punch. Any of you want punch? Too bad, I’m not coming back.” And she disappears into the crowd.

“Sif, I’m so sorry,” Loki says fervently. “Of course you’re my friend. I was just stressed out that day and just . . . being an idiot, apparently. But of course you’re my friend.” He hesitates, wondering if this is oversharing, but he wants her to understand just how sorry he is. “Honestly you’re one of my only friends at this school. And I don’t want to lose that.”

Sif looks up at him, her pale skin shimmering blue and pink in the light from one of those cheesy little LED disco balls. And then her face softens. “Me neither.”

His shoulders slump in relief.

“Friends?” she says, sticking out her hand to shake.

“Friends,” he agrees, and shakes her hand, even though it feels final in a way he doesn’t like. But he can be cool. He’s not going to be one of those crappy Nice Guys™ who can’t cope with a girl wanting to just be friends.

And to that end, he turns and nods toward the refreshment table. “Thor’s here,” he says. “Without a date.”

Sif nods but doesn’t smile. Which is weird. “Sigyn’s here,” she responds. “I saw her out front talking to some people.”

Loki also nods but doesn’t smile. Apparently they have that in common. “I guess we should go talk to them.”

“Guess so.”

But neither moves, and suddenly the fast song that was just playing switches over to something slow that Loki almost recognizes. Sif’s eyes light up. “I love this song!” she says, and starts to sway in time to the music.

“Oh,” says Loki, and thinks it’s a shame she’s not going to get to dance to it because she’s been stuck here talking to him. “Well—should we—”

“Do you want to—” she says at the same time, and they both break off, then laugh. “Loki,” she says formally, “may I have this dance?”

“I would be delighted,” he says, and the overly formal tone is joking but the words are truer than any he has ever spoken.

She takes his hand to lead him onto the dance floor—crap, crap, he wishes that she wouldn’t do that (but also he hopes that she’ll never ever let go)—then puts her hands on his shoulders. He forces himself to play it cool as he puts his hands on her waist. In all the time they’ve been friends he’s never gotten this close to her, and if his heart pounds any louder she’s going to hear it.

They talk idly at first about how their stats project went, but before long they’ve fallen silent; Loki is busily trying to memorize every sensation, every sight, every feeling, every moment of having Sif so close, and she’s strangely quiet as well. Every now and then she looks up at him as though to say something, and then appears to change her mind and go back to looking at his collarbones.

Until the song is starting to wrap up, and she finally lifts her eyes to his. He’s always found prolonged eye contact supremely uncomfortable, especially when he’s in close proximity to the person, but right now he couldn’t look away to save his life. He wants so badly to say something, but no words are coming. Her hands gently smooth down the collar of his shirt, which is literally going to kill him. Everything that is happening right now is literally going to kill him.

And suddenly the song is over and something poppy and upbeat starts playing, and Loki forces himself not to sigh. He has to let her go, and with some effort he removes his hands from her waist and moves to step away from her.

But Sif, who has not stopped staring at him, just tightens her grip on his shoulders.

He freezes.

“I don’t want to ask Thor out,” she says.

His heart stops. “I don’t want to ask Sigyn out,” he blurts.

And the next thing he knows, her mouth is crashing onto his, her hands sliding across his shoulders so she can wrap her arms around his neck, and his hands move of their own accord back to her waist, and holy crap.

Holy. _Crap_.

Because this might be just about the most amazing thing that's ever happened to him.

He doesn’t know how long they stand there, unabashedly making out in front of half the student body, but he distantly hears someone yell “Get a room!” at one point. He has no intention of dignifying that with a response, and indeed no intention of moving from this spot ever again, but they are eventually interrupted with a hearty slap on both of their shoulders and a very familiar voice.

“See, I _told_ you you should date Sif!” Thor booms. “You two are perfect for each other.”

Loki breaks the kiss but otherwise doesn’t move. “Thor,” he murmurs against Sif’s lips, “go away now and go away quick.”

His eyes are still closed, but he’s close enough to feel Sif’s laugh on his skin.

“In just a minute, I swear,” says Thor. “I just wanted to ask: Sif, did Jane come with you guys tonight?”

And now Loki’s eyes fly open, and in unison he and Sif turn their heads to look at Thor (keeping their arms wound tight around each other, because Loki isn’t letting go of her any time soon).

“No, she sprained her ankle and didn’t think hobbling around here on a crutch sounded that fun,” Sif says. “She’s at home.”

“Why?” Loki demands.

Thor shrugs. “Just wanted to talk to her. I was wondering . . . do you think she’d go out with me?”

Loki stares at his brother, his mind whirring, and then realizes, “She’s your math tutor! She’s why you’re suddenly so serious about your schoolwork! And dating girls who aren’t cheerleaders!”

Thor gives an embarrassed but pleased grin, and Sif starts to laugh softly, bowing her head to rest her forehead against Loki’s collarbone. “All this time,” Loki grumbles.

“All this time what?”

“Never mind,” says Sif, looking up at Thor. “I think she’d be really open to that. And in fact she was kind of bummed to be sitting at home alone all night. I bet she’d be really happy if you stopped by to visit her.”

“I could bring her mint brownies!” Thor says. “She said they’re her favorite.”

Is he ever going to leave and let Loki and Sif get back to what they were doing? “What a lovely idea,” Loki says tightly. “You should go do that.”

“Oh, but I’m your ride. I can’t—”

“I can make sure he gets home,” Sif says promptly.

“Could you? That’s so nice of you.” And then, as though just noticing that he interrupted the best kiss of Loki’s life, or perhaps the fact that Loki and Sif are still clinging to each other, he backs up a step. “Sorry. I should let you get back to what you were doing. But I just wanted to say, so happy about this. You two are perfect for each other. And Sif, Loki is such a great guy. Even if he does sometimes play some pretty intense practical jokes on people. One time in the seventh grade—”

“Thor,” says Loki through gritted teeth, “don’t you need to go get those brownies?”

“Right!” says Thor. “Sorry. Off to do that.” He winks at them. “You two lovebirds have fun.” And he disappears into the crowd.

Nothing can kill a mood faster than Thor Odinson. “That guy really can’t take a hint, can he?” Sif muses.

“I’m really sorry about him,” Loki grimaces. “I’d say I’m not sure how we’re related, but, I guess technically we're not.”

Sif laughs and unwinds her arms from around his neck; his heart sinks until she takes his hand. “Let’s go find somewhere quieter.” And she leads him out to the patio of the student union and kisses him under the moonlight until there are more stars in his eyes than the sky.

“I got over Thor weeks—months—ago,” she says eventually. “But then I thought you were interested in Sigyn . . .”

“Never all that interested. I was just trying to make myself get over you.”

She grins. “Well, this could just be all the kissing talking, but I don’t really want you to get over me.”

“All right,” he agrees, and rubs his thumb over her cheekbone, because he can now. “I won’t get over you if you don’t get over me.”

“Deal,” she murmurs against his lips.

So they don't.

They spend every possible moment together as finals week drags on, and then as fall semester starts, and as autumn turns cold and blustery. They don’t have any more classes together but they keep up their study sessions; sometimes Jane and Thor join them, when Thor can get away from football practice, which is generally a good thing because it prevents them from ignoring their homework entirely in favor of focusing on each other. And they attend Thor’s football games with Jane and Darcy, and Sif convinces Loki to take up running, and Loki fails to convince Sif to kick her junk food habit.

“You know those are disgusting, right?” he says one day, looking at her Cheeto-stained fingers.

Sif looks at her fingers, and then at the Cheeto bag, then saunters over to plop herself in his lap and kiss him slowly, her fingers caressing his face. “You love it,” she says, pulling back to admire the streaks of orange now all over his face.

He certainly loves something in this room. So he just kisses her back.

Turns out sometimes good things can happen even to him.

. . . . . .

fin


End file.
